Pink Flamingo Kid
by melissa-writes
Summary: Despite Shawn & Angela's happy marriage, they live in a World of drugs, violence, and desperation. Shawn begins to worry about their daughter, Danica. Told in both voices of Shawn & Danica, Shawn's worst fears become reality.
1. Chapter 1: Shawn

**Chapter One**

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* * *

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SHAWN

* * *

I did what Corey told me to do. That was…well after I let the woman I was going to ask to marry me go to Europe for a year while I was wasted away among the skyscrapers and ethnic neighborhoods of The City. 

I waited a year.

I didn't date anyone else. Just stayed in the guest bedroom of Corey and Topanga's apartment. I watched Topanga climb up the corperate ladder and I watched Corey be shuffled around to job-after-job like he was just a deck of playing cards being dealt out at a smoke-room.

Me? All I had was the mere thought of Angela being with me. She _promised_ she would write everyday. She _promised_ she would call everyday. As much as I loved her, right as she said it, I knew she wouldn't. Because people promise you a lot of things if you live in a trailer park and have never stayed in a "real" house for more than a couple of days. A house that really was your home.

As close as I had allowed myself to get to Jon Turner when I was a teenager back in Philly, I just knew. In the back of my mind I just knew it was temporary and that I shouldn't get attached. I tended to think that way about people. And no person could deny that a guy like me who has had times where absolutely no one was there for me who really gave two shits about where I slept or who I was with, for feeling the way I felt.

I had my friends while I was waiting for Angela's phone calls that never came. And I had Jack's letters from the Peace Corpse. Apparently, he and Rachel were in Ethiopia helping out with the famine. He even wrote t me about how he'd want to come back one day and adopt a kid or two.

And of course, Eric's stupidity for the first two months kept me amused, but after two months, he left the apartment, claiming he could freeload no longer. About a week after that happened and sleepless nights from Topanga that neither me nor Corey understood, Eric called and said that he was fine, living in Elmhurst with his girlfriend, Giselle.

We haven't seen him since.

* * *

After the fifth month of no Angela, and me, actually reading Irvine Welsh, either in the living room or in the nearest Starbucks, Topanga told me and Corey that she was pregnant. I was happy for them, flashed an old Shawn Hunter smile that I hadn't had on my face in a long time and said, "Christ, what the hell took you so long?"

Topanga was all giddy and went out for the night, chatting with her friends. I remember imagining their supple asses in mini-skirts, flaunting for strangers, and them in those bright, flashy clubs, and then regretted not pulling out Veronica again, to be with them so in a way, it wouldn't seem perverted. But it's not like, I wasn't happy just to drink beer-after-beer with Corey in the tiny kitchen, and listen to the sounds of The City woosh around below us.

It's not like I wasn't happy. Without Angela, life really was a shithouse, but every beer I drank, made me loosen up. That's all I remember, because the next morning, I woke up in a hospital room, with my head bandaged and the nurse telling me about alcohol poisoning. It took them a while to realize that I, Shawn Hunter, was not a member of the AA, and I didn't need to be.

But they did eventually.

* * *

Then, seven months went by and Topanga came running into the apartment, glowing from sweat probably, as she had a really swollen belly, telling me that Angela's plane was due to land in an hour from Bulgaria. I immediately, just remembered, jumping up from the couch, turning off some stupid rerun on MTV, and hugging her. Corey came home from his latest job, working at some swanky, over-priced restaurant, the kind that you needed to wear pearls or a tux just to be let in to, as a waiter. I just tackled him into the door and told him to get dressed. I told Topanga to meet me at the Airport and I ran down the five stairwells, and called a cab, just as it started to rain.

I climbed into the taxi, then after a quick ten minute drive to the Airport, I gave him all the money I had in my pocket, then ran into the Airport, checking the arrival screens as they flashed overhead.

_Sofia, Bulgaria: 7:15PM. _

I just waited, leaning against the wall, thinking that every woman I saw was Angela. Corey and Topanga arrived, just before her flight was scheduled to touch down. Corey was trying to shake free his wife's hand.

"Topanga, stop. You're crushing my fingers." He told her, but he was looking at me as he said it.

"Corey-" Topanga sighed deeply, collapsing against the wall, sliding down next to my jeans, her face as white as a ghost. "-Please be quiet."

Then she showed up. I knew her face anywhere. It was beautiful, dark, and shiny even, though I could tell she hadn't gotten much sleep. Her hair was still as long and wonderful just to look at as I remembered it. Her eyes were the same – big, chocolate-brown eyes, perfect above the lips I hadn't touched in a year.

"ANGELA!" I yelled hoarsely. "ANGELA!" I saw her look towards me and she broke into a run. I was running towards her, not caring at how many people I tipped over or pushed in to.

Suddenly, after one year or being apart, she was in my arms again. Her head rested on my shoulder as I brought my arms to move around her back, just feeling her in my arms again. Then I took my hands and held her face in my hands. I brought it closer to mine, kissing her slowly, savoring every second.

"Angela, I love you." I whispered.

"I love you too." She said softly. Even over the commotion of the airport, I could hear every word she was saying, like she'd screamed it.

"Angela, you remember that I wanted to ask you something before you left with your dad? Remember?" Angela nodded, her lips opened partially.

"Yeah. I think I do."

"Well I…I think I'm ready to ask that question again." I told her, feeling my voice grow deeper, like it had the last time I was going to ask her.

"There's something I need to ask you…right now." I told her. "Angela, when you love somebody, you just know you can take care of them forever…You just know it. No matter what happens, right?"

"Yes." Angela said, snaking her arms around my neck. "I know."

"Angela, I know I don't have much, I know that. But-" I took her hand and knelt down in front of her. "I don't have a ring either. But…I know I love you. Will you marry me?"

I looked up at Angela. Her eyes were shining and she threw her whole body around mine.

"Yes." She told me. "Yes I will."


	2. Chapter 2: Danica

**Chapter Two**

* * *

**DANICA**

* * *

In the City, there was always something to do besides school. I hated the idea of living in some redneck place with nothing but a school-house and country stores. And I didn't. I lived in Brooklyn, where a kid could have as much fun, just hiding in between skyscrapers or laughing when mustard stained their shirt from a hotdog stand.

It was a cold December morning and I played good girl at home. I told mom and dad about my English project being all done and finished a week ago. It was due today, but I didn't even read the book, Tomorrow, Maybe by Brian James. Neither did my best friend, Malcolm. Me and him had better things to do. And they didn't involve sitting in a desk for seven hours, five days a week, listening to some racist, white teacher lecture us about street-kids and how bad they were.

Malcolm, his mom, and his little sister, Breelyn lived on the streets once. Now they live in a Homeless Shelter. Malcolm's mom said God built the shelter, but Malcolm tells me, "Danica, it's really jus' a prison fo' people wit no money in their damn pockets. It's like ya need to pay a price to even be cared about in the World."

"School is the same way too." He told me, just as I met him on the corner of Preacher Street. "Adults jus' don't care. They sayin' 'hey, we old, we don't need this. They do.' They dunno shit, do they Danica?" I shook my head, pulling back the strands of dark hair into my ponytail.

"Is yo' dad still pissed at me?" Malcolm asked. "I mean I know he aint no racist, but I don' think he likes me very much."

"Aw boo," I told him, kicking at a pebble. "He likes you fine."

"Thanks, Danica. Want me ta buy ya somethin' today?" he smiled down at me. I loved his smile. It was like he made it so it could be sunny when it was raining outside.

"No, boo." I told him, rolling up my sleeves so that I could use my hands. "You don't gotta buy me anything. 'Sides, did your mom find a job yet?"

"Nah." he said. He looked outward towards the skyscrapers, covered in snow like a Christmas card, then at me. "She's tryin, but she don't got luck."

"Don't buy me anything till your mom gets a job, okay?" I told him. "Really, I mean it, Malcolm."

"Ya sure?" I nodded.

"As sure as your mama named you after Malcolm X, yeah, I'm sure." Malcolm nodded, giving me a small smile, a dull flush of pink was creeping underneath his cheeks.

"But what if I gave ya somethin' I don't hafta pay for?" he said, resting against the rough metal of an old factory's frame.

I didn't realize we walked this far. The factory was near Soho, and if you looked just right, between the snow and sunlight, it was like the City was twinkling just for you. Malcolm loved it here and so did I. No one bothered us here, not even the fuzz, so it was a good place to go when you didn't feel like school.

"What are you talkin' about?" I asked, joining him in the snow, curling my legs up to my chest. I felt the snow seep into my jeans.

"This." He gently pulled out a pink necklace that looked as if it was worth over one-million bucks easy. Maybe it was just the sunlight. It was a pale pink trail of beauty you could touch and feel.

"Oh my God, boo." I whispered. "How'd you-"

"Five-fingers." He said, wiggling his free hand. "They haven't caught me yet and I've been doin' it since I was a street-boy."

"Malcolm-" I said softly. "You didn't have to…"

"I wanted to." He said. "Here." He wrapped his arms around my neck, and laced it.

"Malcolm." I said. My eyes stung. I knew tears were coming and it hurt. "I don't want you to get in trouble, you know that."

"Danica." He said softly. I felt his fingers trace underneath my eyes, wiping the tears away. "I won't. Don't worry."

I could feel his breath on my cheek, just as easily as I could feel his fingers against my skin, moving so slowly, like I was something made out of glass. I could feel his other hand go up the back of my shirt. I felt his fingers on the cloth of my bra, but I didn't stop him. I felt his lips touch mine and when both your tongues touched, we fell over in the snow. I felt my hair break free of my ponytail elastic, just as Malcolm deepened the kiss as he lay on top of me, but somehow he felt weightless – like air.

"Soon." He whispered.

"Yes." I whispered back. "Soon."


	3. Chapter 3: Shawn

**Chapter Three**

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**SHAWN**

* * *

It was late at night. The sun had set nearly three hours ago and I was sitting at the kitchen table with Corey and his daughter, Vanessa, an unfinished card game spread out in front of us. Vanessa was seventeen; a year older than my daughter, Danica. Angela was out looking for her. After much arguing, I agreed to stay behind with Corey and Vanessa, just in case Danica came back home.

"Where the hell could she be?" I mumbled more to myself, than to Corey. "Danica's a good girl. She wouldn't do anything like this."

"If you and mom let me have a car I could actually be helping Angela and Topanga find her." Vanessa said, putting water on the stove to boil.

"Well, we can't change that now, Vanessa." Corey said, sipping from the Sprite can he was holding.

"Well you should have." Vanessa mumbled, flipping her hair behind her ear.

"Look, why don't you just go home. You've got school tomorrow." Corey told her. Vanessa threw him a look, but stood up and started to look for her coat.

"Corey!" I shouted. I looked at him with an even dirtier look than Vanessa had given him. "How the hell could you just tell her to go? This is Brooklyn for Christ sake!"

"Shawn-" Corey told me. "-Look, Vanessa will be fine. So will Danica. Don't worry about-"

"No she won't! Vanessa, until Angela and your mom get back, stay here."

"Shawn-" Corey began.

"NO!" I yelled. "Vanessa, stay here." I said, a bit calmer than I felt.

"Shawn, are you alright?" Vanessa asked me as she retook her seat near the kitchen window. I slid my hands over my face and nodded.

"Mmm-Hmm." I lied. "Yeah."

Then the door opened and Angela walked in first. She called my name.

"In the kitchen!" Corey yelled for me.

"You don't need-" I began, but my words were cut short by Angela wrapping her arms around me.

"We found Danica. She's outside with Topanga." I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest.

"Where was she?"

"At the Shelter. Chanise thought Danica and Malcolm-"

"Chanise Jemero? Malcolm's mother? Angela, I thought we told her not to hang around with him anymore." I told her.

"I know Shawn, but she's a girl…And she seems to only hang around him. We can't just-"

"Forget about that. Where is she?"

"Outside with Topanga." I stood up from my chair and started for the door. "Shawn- please don't be too hard on her." Angela called after me as I threw open the door and walked down the stairwells toward the city that slept with its lights on.


	4. Chapter 4: Danica

**Chapter Four**

* * *

**DANICA**

* * *

When my dad came outside, Topanga put both hands on my shoulders and kissed my forehead, saying everything would be okay. Then she walked inside, squeezing Shawn's arm in a friendly way.

"Where the hell were you?" he asked. It was really dark, I could only make out his face by the passing cars, but I could tell he was really upset – even in the dark.

"Didn't mom tell you?" I asked, combing through my hair with my fingers.

"Yes, Danica, she did. And – stop that!" he took my hand with his and kept it there between us. "But I want to hear it from you. Tell me. Where were you?"

"Just out." I told him.

"You weren't just out, Danica. You were with Malcolm Jemero. Chanise called your mom."

"So?" I asked. "Dad, you're just gonna hafta accept that Malcolm is my best friend."

"That kid isn't a _best friend!_ Why don't you be best friends with _Vanessa Matthews_ or maybe _Eva_, your cousin!" my dad yelled.

"Who's Eva?"

"You'll meet her soon. Uncle Jack and Aunt Rachel are coming from Hershey, Saturday. But that's beside the point. Out of all the good people – you pick Malcolm Jemero! This kid's dad's gone and he's been on the streets – doing God knows what!"

"You're _friends _with Chanise! _You and mom are_!" I yelled. "And you _know_ they were homeless dad, so don't play!"

"Well Chanise isn't a bad person!"

_"Neither is her son!"_ I grabbed the door and threw it open, feeling the shock of the steel shaking underneath my sneakers as I raced up to the apartment. I threw open that door and instead of playing good girl and hugging everyone, I just stormed down the hall, into my bedroom, burying my face in my pillow and screaming; my voice drowned out from the City that seemed to live and breathe on its own below me.

I pretended to be asleep until I was sure Corey, Topanga, and Vanessa left and my mom and dad were asleep. I got out of bed, still dressed in the wet clothes I had been wearing all morning and opened my Instant Messenger on my computer. Malcolm had gotten a laptop for his sixteenth birthday. His mom used two whole paychecks just for him.

**MrX2:** Hey D.

**DanicaDreams33:** Hey M.

**MrX2:** Did yo mama bust ya?

**DanicaDreams33:** Yeah, but my dad was PISSED.

**MrX2:** Cus of me right?

**DanicaDreams33:** Why'd you think that, boo?

**MrX2:** Cus it always is at least one reason, D. I guess most people don't like me very much.

**DanicaDreams33:** Not always. And I like you M.

**MrX2:** I like you too.

**DanicaDreams33: **Sorry about my dad, M. I really am. I just don't get it. My parents are real nice friends with your mom, but it's like my dad thinks you're a bad seed.

**MrX2:** Wasn't he a bad seed when he was our age though D?

**DanicaDreams33:** That's what mom said.

**MrX2:** Did ya ask yo dad?

**DanicaDreams33:** He used to tell me stories when I was little.

**MrX2:** Maybe he's just scared, D. Nothin' to worry about.

**DanicaDreams33:** You sure?

**MrX2:** Yeah. Ya wanna go out Saturday night?

**DanicaDreams33:** Sure. Where?

**MrX2: **We'll just walk. Like we usually do. That ok?

**DanicaDreams33:** Perfect.

**MrX2: **I'm shot. Mom wants me to watch Bree before I go to school tomorrow. 'Night D.

**DanicaDreams33:** 'Night M.


	5. Chapter 5: Shawn

**Chapter Five**

* * *

**SHAWN**

* * *

After we got Danica home, I settled into bed with Angela, feeling her arms around my waist as I pulled her close to me underneath the sheets.

"I told you not to be hard on her, Shawn." Angela whispered to me. I felt her hand on my cheek and I turned towards her.

"I wasn't." I said. "Really Angela."

"I could hear you guys screaming from the kitchen!" she whispered loudly. I felt her fingers tighten around my arm.

"Ow." I shook my hand free. "I know. Okay, look, I guess I was a little hard on her."

"You think Shawn?" she whispered. "You know how she gets when she gets upset. You knew that if you just attacked her, she wouldn't come quiet."

"I know." I kissed Angela's cheek. "Actually, I don't know…You _do_ know, Angela…You know all there is to know about Danica. I don't. Does that mean I screwed up? I mean, now. Not when I was a kid. Cus you don't need to answer that."

"Shawn…" Angela whispered. She wrapped her arms around my stomach. "No…You haven't screwed up. Neither one of us has. Okay?" I felt her arms go up and down as she patted my chest.

"Okay." I told her. "I just wish…things would be a lot easier if Feeney was still alive."

"I know, Shawn, but no one lives forever. And Mr. Feeney _was_ old, even when he was teaching us. At least he knew he was loved by everybody."

"I know. It's just Feeney would know what to do, you know? He would know exactly what to say, how to say it, and what to do with Danica."

"Shawn…" Angela's voice trailed off. I touched her arm.

"Yes?"

"Why are you so scared for Danica? Shawn, she's a smart girl…"

"Angela-" I rolled over on my side so I could look at her directly. "She ran away and she also cut school in one day. And she hangs out with people like Malcolm Jemero. I think I have a right to be scared."

"Shawn-"

"No, Angela! And look where we live! Not exactly Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood! There's drug-trafficking, and-and violence and crackwhores and all sorts of stuff Danica can get in to!"

"Shawn! Danica won't-"

"Angela, how do you know? Here's something _I know_. It's _easy_. It's so easy to get in to. But you cannot get yourself out. Getting in to that stuff is the easiest thing in the World."

"Shawn…"

"No. Don't 'Shawn' me. I said what I said. You can believe me if you want."

We didn't talk for the rest of the night. Angela fell asleep soon after everything happened, but I stayed awake – laying next to her, feeling her body in my arms, but my energy never faded.

I just stayed there in bed, watching the lines of moonlight grow and shrink with time across the ceiling, slow at first, then fast, then slow again. I watched every sliver of moonlight – just like a tangible heartbeat.

* * *

Two days later, Saturday came around. I made sure Danica had gone to school the day before and she wasn't talking to me. What ever questions she had she asked Angela. Angela talked to me, but not very much. Then I heard a car pull up through all the City's noises and then footsteps coming up the stairs.

"RACHEL!" Angela screamed. I looked around the corner. Angela had thrown her arms around Rachel and Danica was looking over the top of the living room couch. I could hear Chris Brown faintly, as if he was a ghost or something through her earphones, she didn't take off. While Rachel and Angela launched into a 90-mile-an-hour chat, walking into the living room, Jack walked into the doorway.

He still looked the same since I last saw him at his Wedding, but now he was holding the hand of a tall and skinny girl with long hair just like Angela's, but eyes as big as Jack's. She looked maybe a year or so younger than Danica.

"Hey bro." Jack said, clapping my shoulder. I nodded, offering him a small smile in return. I looked at the girl he was holding hands with. I tried to smile more.

"Hello." I said. "I'm your Uncle Shawn." She nodded at me, her fingers still laced with Jack's.

"Shawn, this is Eva. The girl I wrote to you about. Me and Rachel adopted her when she was just a baby."

"Oh." I nodded, like I was even vaguely interested and hadn't figured that out. "From Ethiopia?"

"Yeah." Jack nodded, then veered off from our awkward silences to say hello to Angela. Rachel came after me, hugging me, and kissing me on the cheek. Danica got up from the couch only to look at the scene for a moment, have Eva's eyes meet hers, then close the door to her bedroom.

I didn't take action. I didn't storm into her bedroom, demanding her to be social and not be a hermit. I just let her go. If Angela didn't believe what I told her, maybe if Danica actually did something I talked with Angela about Thursday night, maybe she would believe me.

* * *

After a few hours of the four of us, just talking and catching up, sipping the wine that Jack brought over, Corey and Topanga showed up, with Vanessa and a tall boy of about eighteen with short, spiked blonde hair, and stubble.

"Well now." Jack said slowly, looking at Vanessa and the boy, after Eva had been introduced by Rachel. "Who is this?"

"This is my boyfriend, Isaiah." Vanessa introduced. "Where's…Danica?"

"Uh…in her bedroom, I think, right Shawn?" Angela asked me as she took an empty chip bowl from the coffee table. I nodded, stuffing my hands into my jean pockets. Vanessa took Isaiah down the hall and knocked on the bedroom door. Eva looked at Jack and he let go. Surprisingly, Eva went with Vanessa and her boyfriend. Vanessa came back after a few minutes, swatting her hair out of her eyes as if they were flies.

"Uh, she's not there." Vanessa said uneasily.

"What?" the color drained from my face as all of us ran towards her bedroom. I looked into her bedroom and saw that her window was open. A cold December breeze cut through the room. I looked at Angela, then back at the window, then back at Angela again.

"There." I said. "Now you believe me, Angela?"


	6. Chapter 6: Danica

**Chapter Six**

* * *

**DANICA**

* * *

I met Malcolm outside the Homeless Shelter on Reddings Street. He took my hand and pressed something cold and metal into my palm.

"Look." He said. I unfolded my fingers to see a single key in my palm.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's a key." He said, snaking his arm around my shoulders. "Grant Jenkins, a friend of mine, he left his place for the night."

"Really?" I asked, smiling.

"Yeah, with beer in the fridge."

"Oooh." I smiled and took his hand.

"You can say that again." He smiled and kissed me. "C'mon, we'll take the Subway."

* * *

We took the Subway to Queens. Malcolm led the way to a complex on King Street. He slid open the metal doors and walked me up the stairs to Apartment 15C. He wrestled with the keyhole for a good few minutes, then the door eased open. He flicked on the light and the place was flooded in a pale wash of colors from the furniture.

A shabby loveseat that looked as if it was bought at a thrift store was near a set of double-windows with broken blinds hanging like dead men over the glass. The carpet was in need of a steam-cleaning, vacuuming, and shampooing and it smelt as if the fridge in the next room had to be scrubbed and cleaned out.

Malcolm snapped the door shut and walked into the kitchen. I carefully sat on the loveseat and Malcolm came back with a six-pack of beer. He cracked open two cans and gave one to me. I sniffed it gingerly. It smelt as sour as whatever was rotting in the fridge and tasted just as bad, but I drank it down anyway. Malcolm drank his.

We kept drinking until the six-pack was nothing was a piece of broken cardboard on the floor. I was really close to throwing up, but I didn't. We sat in silence for a good hour until Malcolm turned to me.

"Are you ready?" he whispered, slurring his words. I was as drunk as him. I nodded, smiling. He looked at me and I felt my skin tremble slightly underneath my sweater as his hands eased underneath it.

"I love you, Danica." He whispered. No words slurred then. He gently eased me onto my back, taking care with every movement he made.

"I love you too, Malcolm." I whispered back.

All I remember from that point on, was the sounds of the City, as it lived and breathed below us. Alive more than anything we would ever know.

* * *

What I remember next was, opening my eyes and realizing I was in Grant's apartment. It was really dark out. I checked the clock on the microwave I could see from the couch. It was ten minutes to midnight. I wasn't drunk, but I felt absolutely horrible. Like I had the flu, mono, and strep all rolled up into one.

Then I remembered what I had just done and I bit my lip.

_"Malcolm!"_ I whispered. I shoved his shoulder. _"Malcolm!"_ he slowly opened his eyes.

"Danica! Don't yell, babe, c'mon…"

"I'm not yelling." I whispered. "C'mon we need to get home."

"What time is it?" he asked as I quickly put my jeans back on.

"Almost midnight." I said, pulling on my sneakers. Malcolm swore and got dressed, then grabbed my arm and pulled me out of Grant's apartment.

"Subways don't run this late though." I told him, once we were outside. "What are we going to do Malcolm?" I asked, close to tears, my voice was breaking.

"I don't-"

"Danica?" a voice asked. I turned around. A man with short blonde-ish-brown hair wearing a baggy jeans and a t-shirt walked into the glow of the streetlight. Then I realized who it was.

Eric Matthews.

"Eric?" I asked. I looked at Malcolm. "You didn't tell me we were in Elmhurst!"

"Sorry." He mumbled. "You just didn't ask."

"Well next time try and remember where we are going!" I snapped.

"Danica, hey, I hate to break up this little party, but everyone is looking for you. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you live in Brooklyn?" I nodded, looking down at my sneakers that I didn't even bother tying.

"Yes."

"And what are you doing out here in Elmhurst?"

"Uh…" I began. "Uh…Just out with my friend, Malcolm."

"Do your parents know?" I shook my head. "Do you know it's midnight?" I nodded. Eric whistled.

"Lucky for you, Corey called me and told me what happened. So I decided to look for you even though I thought a smart girl like yourself wouldn't go to Queens or even be outside her apartment walls, now would she? Look, you're here. I found you. I'll take you home. Do you need a ride…Maron?"

"It's Malcolm." He said. I felt his fingers lace mine. I squeezed his hand.

"Sorry. Well it's late. Do you need a ride, Malcolm?" Eric asked. He shook his head and let go of my hand.

"No. I'll walk." He turned on his heel. I touched his shoulder, but he shrugged me off, whispering "No, D."

"Come…Come on, Danica." Eric said, touching my shoulder as he craned his neck, watching Malcolm walk down the street. "I…I'll take you home. C'mon."

* * *

"What I don't understand is _why_ Danica?" My dad yelled as softly as he could.

"Shawn." My mom said, touching his arm, just like I touched Malcolm's. "C'mon, honey, it's late. We're all tired. We can talk about this is the morning."

"No Angela." My dad said firmly. "We are settling this now. Look, she's already said she was with Malcolm. Was it just a date, Danica?"

"What makes you think I'd tell you?" I said.

"Look, I'll take no lip from anyone. Never have and my own daughter will _not _be the exception, understand?" I didn't move from the chair I was sitting in.

"Now answer me. Was it just a date or did something happen?" he said softly. "At least, give me that much, Danica."

"No." I said. I stood up from the chair and started for my bedroom, but my dad grabbed me and gripped my arm.

"Dad!" I yelled._ "Let go!"_

"Danica, _no_! _You are not going anywhere until you tell us what's going on!"_

"Dad! No-" I swung my free arm until I felt it crush my dad's face. He fell backward into the table and I ran for my bedroom, flying to get to my bed, but careful to lock the door behind me, scared of my own shadow.


	7. Chapter 7: Shawn

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

**SHAWN**

* * *

"Shawn, why'd you grab her?" Angela's voice washed over me as if I had just sunk into a hot spring.

"She wasn't telling-" I paused as Angela pressed an ice-pack to the left side of my face. I thanked her and she draped her arms around me, nuzzling my cheek. "-us anything. And she just was going to leave. I swear to God, she's already back with Malcolm."

"Shawn." Angela caressed my uninjured cheek with her hand. "You can't think everything that concerns Danica also includes Malcolm."

"Well can you really blame me, hon?" I asked. "I mean she _has _no other friends aside from Malcolm Jemero-"

"That's not true." Angela said. "What about..uh…_Josie…uh what was her name_…"

_"Angela."_ I folded my free hand over hers. "Stop trying to save her ass. You _know_ Malcolm's her only influence."

"Oh. _Like you weren't Cory's only influence_." Angela said.

"Angela…it's _not _the same thing and you know it."

_"Oh really?"_ Angela asked. "Really, Shawn? Do you honestly think this is any different?"

"Yeah! Angela, it is _different_! _Malcolm's a boy_! Danica's a girl! Danica…she's not just _any_ girl…She's our _daughter_! See Angela? _This _is why I wanted_ boys_!"

"Shawn-"

"No! _Okay _Angela? _You know what happened! You know it and if she is responsible for making us grandparents at thirty-seven years old then you can believe me!"_

"Shawn-"Angela was close to tears, but for the first time in living memory since I'd known her, I didn't care. I just needed to get out.

"Angela…look I love you, you know that, don't you?" I asked softly, taking her hands in mine. She nodded, sniffing.

"I do." She said, her voice fainting. "I do Shawn."

"Angela…" I brought my hand up to her face and ran it across her cheek to run it through her hair. "You'd understand if…if I just went away for a while…just to see someone, right?"

"Shawn-"

"Angela! _Please_!"

"Who would you go see Shawn? All your friends…everyone…everyone's here."

"My dad."

"Shawn, your dad's been dead for-"

_"I know!"_ I said, letting go of her hands and pushing away her hand as it went to touch my face. "Angela…just please." She nodded slowly, like she didn't want to at first, but knew this was just something I had to do. She threw her arms around me and I hugged her tight. I walked to the door and turned around, my hand still on it.

"How long will you be in Philly?" she asked.

"A couple days." I said hoarsely. "That's all." I took my coat from the crooked hook on the wall and put it on roughly.

"Thank you Angela." I said, knowing I just had to get out of the room before I completely lost it. "For everything. You are the best thing…that has ever happened to me." She nodded and I knew she felt the same way.

I turned the doorknob, but instead of opening the door, I took her in my arms and kissed her. Our lips stayed together for what seemed like an eternity, but I knew I had to get out.

"Goodbye, Angela." I said softly, my face barely an inch from hers.

"Shawn…I thought we agreed never to stay goodbye."

"I know." I said. "I…"

I didn't let myself finish. I opened the door and slowly walked down the stairs and out into the City, seeing my breath rise like visible anguish from my mouth as I headed for the train station.


	8. Chapter 8: Danica

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

**DANICA**

* * *

The next morning, the usual sounds of the TV in the other room or my mom singing Blues loudly in the kitchen, weren't what woke me. If I had my way, I would have just slept till the good Lord decided to take me to Him.

All I could think about was Malcolm and what we did last night. How I gave him the best gift a girlfriend could ever give her boyfriend. That's all I could think about.

As I was pulling off my wet clothes that I just wanted to burn, I just grabbed random jeans and a t-shirt from the laundry basket near my computer. Part of me wanted to see if Malcolm was on, but another part of me wanted to forget about him all-together.

But I knew I didn't want to forget about him. I _knew_ that. But another part of me knew the right thing to do. It was like I had all these little Danica angels on one shoulder and all these little Danica devils on the other shoulder, like one of those cheesey movies, commercials, or whatever.

I pulled at my hair, and stared at my bare feet, all tangled up in the blanket. I kicked at it, and groaned, trying to block out everything around me. I hugged my knees and rested my head on them.

My mom opened the door without knocking. That wasn't like her, but I wasn't going to jump down her throat. She looked as if she'd been crying too. She sat on my bed without saying anything. She looked at me, and then touched my knee.

"Danica." She said softly. "Honey, are you alright?" I shook my head, then turned so I could look at her.

"Are you okay, mom?"

"No sweetheart. Not right now."

"Why?"

"Dad needed some time on his own."

"Like a divorce?" I asked, too upset and tired to react.

"Oh God no, Danica. He just needed to go visit someone."

"Who?"

"Just…just someone, honey."

"Who?"

"Danica-"

"Mom, just tell me."

"Honey…"

"Mom. Why'd dad just go?"

"He went to see your grandfather." She told me, squeezing my hand.

"But I thought he was dead."

"Oh baby…he's been dead for a long time. But your dad…I never think he completely got over it."

"Dad doesn't know Malcolm's dad's dead too." I said.

"Really? I should go and see Chanise…"

"Don't bother. She won't talk to you about it. She never talks to anyone about it. Hardly even Malcolm, but he knows the whole story. More of it. Bree's too little, but I'm pretty sure once she goes to nursery school, she'll start learnin' about it."

"But Chanise is a friend of-"

"She already knows that card, mom. She doesn't budge on it. And besides, Malcolm's dad died when Bree was born. A few years back."

"From what?"

"Malcolm says I can't talk about it."

"What about Chan-"

"She won't either. I told you."

"Are you sure, Danica?" I nodded.

"Yeah." I looked up at her. "Mom." I said softly. She looked down at me and brought her fingers to my eyes to wipe away my tears.

"What is it honey?"

"I need to tell you something." I straightened up and she hugged me. "Mom...it was more than just…a date with Malcolm last night…" She let go of me gently and stared.

"Sorry." I whispered. "Mom, can I..." she nodded, not even knowing what I was going to ask. I didn't even comb my hair and she didn't try to. I didn't even grab a jacket and she didn't say anything against it. I just walked out of the room, feeling her eyes on my back until a swirl of snow made my internal flame go out.

* * *

All I remember is walking and for the first time, not having a specific place to get to. I shivered as the cold air took advantage of my exposed arms, wishing I had grabbed a jacket, even something as stupid as a windbreaker before I left.

Somehow my feet took me to the Homeless Shelter Malcolm, Breelyn, and their mom lived in, but I didn't think to go in and ask to see him. And usually, I would. Whenever I saw the shelter, whenever I walked by it, I just walked in and they knew my face and who I was there for.

Instead I walked further down Reddings Street to a park that looked more suited for dead children to play in. I eased the rusted gate open then took care as I walked down the sloping dead grass that snaked around the park. It made me feel as if I was in one of the famous famines that happened over the last few centuries and I was just walking in that country…in the shoes of a starving teenager and somehow knew whatever I did would amount to nothing.

The dead grass seemed to go on forever. It wasn't green. It was a sick yellow and brown, racing underneath broken swing-sets and slides and even the benches were in disrepair. I took one of those least-broken benches, curling up on it, my eyes straying up to the gray sky that looked as dead as the playground, with only the occasional pigeon to remind me that the sky was still alive, as much as the City was, but the sky was dying quicker than the City. There wasn't enough sky to cover the living, breathing place or the living, breathing people.

I sat in silence for a while, not even sure of my own breathing, but hearing my name I looked up from my fingers. A plump girl with skin the exact shade of powdered cocoa, her hair done in dreads, but pulled back in to a ponytail wearing a Camo jacket and ripped jeans was standing in front of me. I didn't know her, but she knew my name.

"Hey, you're Danica Hunter, right?" she said. I nodded.

"Yeah." My voice cracked, as if I hadn't used it in a long time. "Who are-"

"Nadeyah. Malcolm sent me."

"How do you-"

"We're from the same place-" she paused to jut a finger out from her sleeve to the left. "-the shelter up the street."

"Is he there?" I asked. "Does he wanna talk to me or somethin'?"

"No. He's in Philly, before he went he just told me to tell you." Nadeyah said.

"Did he move there?" I asked. Nadeyah shook her head.

"He's just visiting. He didn't say who. He just said it was family. He said they really wanted to see his mom, Bree, an' him, so his mom finally gave in. He didn't say when he'd be comin' back." I nodded.

"You know, for a person who knows Malcolm Vishon Jemero, you don't say very much." I shrugged.

"Sorry, I'm just…not feeling good."

"You contagious?"

"No, it's not that."

"Well, mind some company?" I shook my head and she sat down next to me. "Malcolm really likes you." She said. "Told me he loves you. Are you guys like…datin'?" I looked at her.

"Well, I really like him too and…yeah, I think we are."

"Good, 'cus he says you are." Nadeyah brushed a batch of dreads away from her face. "He said you two were meant for each other."

"Really?" Nadeyah nodded.

"Yeah," she went on. "He also says you've…you know." She blinked her eyes and looked at me. I nodded. Her face didn't change expression.

"You wanna come out for Chinese tonight?" she asked. "Me an' a few friends are goin' to that place on Evander Street in Chinatown."

I nodded. "Sure. That'd be great. Thanks. Here-" she paused, taking a pen from the pocket of her jeans. "Write your address on my hand. We'll pick you up…say 'round sevenish?"

I smiled. "Yeah. Seven's good." I said, writing the address on the back of her hand. "Thanks."

"Oh, it's no problem. You looked like you needed some friends." She smiled at me and gave me a one-armed hug.

"I hafta go…my dad wants to me watch my son." She said this so easily, like it didn't matter at all.

"Son?" I asked, trying to be friendly, although my voice was breaking. Nadeyah nodded.

"Whoops. Sorry, did I freak you out?" I shook my head.

"Nah…would you want some help?" I asked. She nodded.

"Sure. Tyjon can be enough trouble for two people a lot of the time." She smiled again.

As we walked out of the park, I knew I had something I was missing. A friend. Malcolm, he would always be my best friend, but you can't go through life with just one friend standing next to you. I knew that now.

* * *

"Danica, I'm sorry, child, but Malcolm's not here today." Colette told me, giving me the same smile she always did. The kind all old ladies had. But there was something about hers. Maybe it was the way it seemed to make all the wrinkles disappear into her dark face, or maybe it was her optimistic attitude she had all the time.

"She knows, Colette." Nadeyah said. "She's here with me."

"Oh really now?" Colette stopped shuffling paper and looked at us again. "Now aint that mighty special, Danica? You know, yo' dad was worryin' fo' nothin'. I's tellin' him, yo' daughter got friends, don't worry about her. She's a smart girl." I thanked her and Nadeyah jumped in.

"Can she come in an' help me with Tyjon? C'mon Colette, _pleaseee_. She needs a friend right now. _Pleasee_?" Colette laughed and leaned in towards the two of us over the wall of the desk.

"Okay, she can, but keep it quiet, you hear?" Nadeyah nodded.

"Sure, c'mon, Danica."

Nadeyah walked through the tiled hallway, with its framed pictures of happy families, like the ones you see in magazines or doctor's offices. But they were careful not to show framed pictures with homes, because everyone in here didn't have one. She passed a tack-board with FOR RENT fliers stuck to the cork, but most of them were gone and the cork-board was graffitied on by teenagers from what Malcolm told me. She pressed a button next to the elevator and the doors slid open.

We got in and the doors shut. Nadeyah pressed another button and the elevator rose to the second floor. She walked me down a carpeted hallway with a huge glass wall where you could see the City moving instead of just hearing it.

"Yeah, some view." Nadeyah said, after seeing my face. "C'mon, it's just down this way."

She led me passed the Rec Room where teenagers were watching MTV, splayed out on the couches, and tossing a basketball to each other, then to a door that was slightly open. She opened it fully and walked inside.

My bedroom was bigger than this room. All it had was two bunk-beds and a small couch with a TV squished to the wall. A crib with a blue blanket was near the only window in the room.

A lanky man with an unshaven face wearing a wife-beater and a pair of thrift-store jeans was sleeping on the couch, the TV turned on to GSN. Nadeyah shook her head at him and went to the crib, peering over its edge. She swore under her breath and walked to the TV, switching it off. Immediately, the man sat up, snorting, and rubbed at his face.

"Hey, I was watchin' that, Nadeyah." He protested.

"Nah, dad, you were asleep. Again. Where's Tyjon?"

"Ty-who?"

"Your grandson." She said, as if this happened almost every single day.

"Oh. Him. Clara's watchin' him."

"Are you payin' her?"

"I aint no cheapskate, Nadeyah." He said, standing up. His head almost brushed the ceiling. "I'm not cheatin' a good woman outta money."

"Well, we need money too, dad."

"I know we do, Nadeyah, I know, but look… I promise I won't give Tyjon to Clara _too _much, okay?" she nodded. "Who's your friend?" he asked.

"Danica, Malcolm's friend." She told him. He held out his hand.

"Hello, Danica. I'm Andre." I shook his hand.

"Look, to make up for it, I'll watch Tyjon. Okay? Weren't you and your friends supposed to go out tonight, anyway?"

"You will? Thanks!" Nadeyah stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek.

"No problem. Nice meeting you, Danica."

We both waved goodbye, then walked out of the shelter down to Chinatown.

* * *

We met three others outside Chao Dong's underneath the pale light from the Chinese lantern that fell over the sidewalk.

"Hey Nadeyah!" a white boy with red cornrows who was wearing a black South Pole t-shirt and baggy jeans with a chain hanging from the pocket waved to her. The two others, a girl with her dark hair twisted on to her head, who was wearing a tight red sweater and pale blue jeans was leaning against the display window, talking to a tall boy with a shaved head wearing a Harlem Globetrotters jersey and do-rag.

"Hey Mayir." Mayir kissed her on the cheek and gave me a smile. "Who's she? Hey Jovita, Trevon, come here."

The two others walked over to us and Jovita gave smiled. Trevon folded his arms and nodded. Jovita nudged his ribs.

"Say _hi_, Trevon." She nagged. Trevon nodded.

"Hey. I'm Trevon." I shook his hand.

"Danica."

Nadeyah introduced everyone else and Mayir poked his head into the door.

_"C'mon Si!"_ he yelled. "Come…fine!" he closed the door, the bells jingling. "Si told me he couldn't hold the reservation."

"That's straight up stupid. Havin' to make a reservation to eat _Chinese_." Trevon mumbled.

"You damn right it is." Nadeyah said. "Hey, wanna go somewhere else instead?"

"No." Jovita said sarcastically. "I'm jus' gonna sit here all day and become a damn hobo."

"Actually…I gotta go." I said softly.

"You sure?" Nadeyah turned to me. I nodded.

"Yeah…I'm sorry."

"Want a ride Danica?" Mayir asked. "I could give you one." I shook my head.

"Look, I'll meet you at uh…Golden House in an hour." I said.

"Golden House?" Trevon asked. "You mean the place over on Luther Street?" I nodded.

"Yeah! Can you guys get there?" I asked as I was running down the street.

"SURE!" Trevon yelled after me.

* * *

An hour later, I showed up to Golden House. Mayir, Trevon, Jovita, and Nadeyah were already sitting at a booth. Jovita waved me in. I didn't say a word. I just sat next to Trevon, watching Mayir shovel Lo-Main down his throat. I felt sick and the nauseating smell of a whole load of greases wasn't making it any better. My hand gripped around the cloth of my jeans pocket.

"Hey, Nadeyah." I whispered.

"Yeah?" she asked, taking a sip of her Coke.

"Can you meet me outside?"

"Hey ladies, if this about _Tampax_, feel free just to talk. We don't need whisperin'. We're men." Mayir pointed out.

"Shut up, Mayir." Nadeyah said, slapping his arm. She leaned across the table at me. "And it isn't…is it?"

"If I needed one, would I ask you to meet me out outside? C'mon." Trevon moved out of the booth so I could get out and Nadeyah followed me outside underneath a streetlight.

"What is it?" she asked. Shaking, I pulled out a small white stick, the end illuminated with a bright red cross.

"No way." She whispered.

"Yeah." I said softly. "Nadeyah, what am I gonna do?"

"Danica…Oh for God's Sake!" she yelled. She walked over to the door and wrenched it open. Trevon and Mayir fell onto the pavement. Jovita walked over them.

"How much did you hear?" Nadeyah was standing over them, hands on her hips.

"All of it." Mayir said, standing up. His eyes rested on the test still in my hand. "You're pregnant, Danica."

"_Jesus Christ_, I know that!" I yelled. "What am I gonna do?"

"You gotta tell yo' mama." Trevon said. "Even though, we just met, you don't gotta do it alone." He hugged me. "Just know you got friends and that's all that you gotta know."

"I know." I said, not looking at Nadeyah, Mayir, Jovita, or Trevon. I slowly began to cry, but soon I felt four pairs of arms holding me.


	9. Chapter 9: Shawn

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

**SHAWN**

* * *

After staying in a hotel on Church Street for a few days, I decided I should taste Philly again after years of being away from it. The Philly I knew. Not the upper-middle-class neighborhoods with houses and nice gardens.

The Philly that had cars with broken engines that would never be fixed. The Philly with the houses that weren't so new and fresh, and the things inside them weren't so new either. The people didn't go school-clothes shopping. It was either hand-me-downs or make due with what you got. The kids that hid behind leather; others were shy and sometimes skipped lunch because all they found in their fridge or pantry was an old bit of cheese and a stale box of cereal, and they didn't want to be seen with a bag of Cheerios or picking around the crusty part of the cheese.

The trailer-park Philly.

The Philly that was my home.

I walked down the sloping hill that stopped short, leaving gravel and mud to lead to the trailers. I wasn't looking for family. My Uncle Mike had left when I was a teenager and I hadn't seen him since. Everyone else seemed to either fade away or I knew they were in jail, so I didn't bother like I would have when I was a kid.

All I saw was nothing different. The tin houses were lying around as if they were some bad milk a baby had spat up in Heaven. There was a couple with a brunette girl who was skipping rope. I sat on a tree stump, careful not to seem stalkerish as I watched her play.

She was singing "Friar Jacques" as she swung the bright pink rope around her. Her tiny voice made her out to be no less than five or six, but all I could do was listen. It was beautiful. The same way a baby bird twittering in a tree, safe in its nest was beautiful.

And in my heart, I could not help wishing my daughter was just like her. I hoped that tomorrow, Danica would wake up as the little girl that clung to my leg instead of swinging at my face. The little girl that cried to her daddy and didn't yell. I wanted her to be that girl again.

I hated who she became. I hated Malcolm for influencing her. I hated everything that managed to break her any further. And in the pit of my stomach, I was beginning to hate who she was.

She reminded me so much of Angela when she was her age. She was just as beautiful. She could have easily picked a nice, clean guy without a criminal record or time spent in Juvi, Danica thinks I didn't know about when they were fifteen.

The little girl made me think of Danica again. She stopped singing after she fell over, but she didn't scream. Instead she giggled, the noise traveling around the sky until it wrapped around the trailer-park. She kept on giggling until her dad came to pick her up. He kissed her cheek and she cuddled next to his.

It almost made me cry and I kept biting down on my lips to stop the tears from coming. I wasn't more thankful for when they went inside their trailer.

_Was I selfish? _

_Dear God…what happened to my daughter, God…I hardly ever come to you for anything…Just answer me please…_


	10. Chapter 10: Danica

**Chapter 10**

* * *

**DANICA**

* * *

Trevon and Mayir didn't let go of my hands, only for me to open the door. My mom was sitting on the couch, watching the Food Network.

"Hello, sweetie." She said, inclining her head to look over the top of the couch and smiling. "Oh, who are these people?" she said, her smile stretching.

"New friends." I said, trying to keep my voice cheery.

"Really? That's great! I'm Angela, Danica's mother." Everyone somberly nodded at her, then introduced themselves.

"Mrs. H, we got somethin' to tell you." Trevon said softly. Him and Mayir squeezed my hands. Nadeyah and Jovita were looking at me; concern blotching their faces. Nadeyah had her hand on my shoulder.

"Yes, Trevon?"

"Um..." Trevon scratched the back of his neck. "You see…Danica…" At this point, my mom had gotten up from the couch.

"Trevon, I'll tell her."

"Danica…"

"No. I _gotta_. You guys stay here."

"Danica, sweetheart, what's happening?"

"Mom…" I felt my fingers roll in Trevon's palm. "…I'm pregnant." She didn't speak. I handed her the test. She looked down at it, and then looked up at me.

"And Malcolm's…" her voice trailed off. I nodded.

"Sorry." I whispered. "Mom…Sorry…"

"Danica…everything will be okay…Everything will be okay…" she said softly, wrapping her arms around me. My new friends let go of me slowly.

"I'm scared, mom." I said.

"I know…Anyone would be though, you need to understand that." She said. I felt her hand on the back of my head. She turned to my friends. "Thank you for bringing her home." Jovita nodded.

"No problem, Mrs. H."

"Is she gonna be in trouble?" Mayir asked, craning his neck as if he couldn't see something. Angela shook her head.

"Grounding can't fix pregnancies, now can it?" she said. I shook my head, close to collapsing again.

The only difference was, I was home.

* * *

On Monday, mom woke me up to get off to school. There was no word from Malcolm or his usual knock on the door, so I had no reason to cut school. Instead, there was another knock on the door. Thinking it was my father that had run home in a violent, blind rage; I flinched, dropping my backpack to the floor. My English project was really done. My mom watched me do it.

She opened the door. Instead of the bold, bulky figure of my father, it was the tall, skinny, do-rag-wearing-basketball-team-jersey-sporting figure of Trevon J. Samuels. A red backpack was dangling from his hand, complete with the infectious smile that reminded me of Malcolm.

"Morning, Trevon." Angela said. "Danica, it's alright. It's Trevon."

"Hey, Danica." He said, stepping over the threshold. "Thought I'd walk you to school. Seein' as Malcolm's in Philly. Also, seein' as we live in the same place."

"Wait. Trevon." I paused to get my backpack on my shoulders. "You live here?"

"Yeah. With the old lady…I mean, my ma, my dad, and my little brother, Yanik. Jus' about a floor above you." He said, pointing to the ceiling. "Sorry, we never met before."

"You don't gotta apologize. Nadeyah introduced us, it's all cool now." I told him. He smiled and I felt something fluttering in the pit of my stomach. A sensation only Malcolm could give me before I met Trevon. I kissed my mom goodbye and Trevon held the door open for me like a gentleman and we walked to school.

"Yo' pops know about the baby?" he asked quietly. It was still early and only teenagers were forced out this early for school. I shook my head.

"My mom only knew last night." I said. "I'm just prayin' he don't react too badly."

"What's too badly?" he asked.

"Yellin' too much and throwing stuff around. Cursin' out Malcolm and draggin' me to a clinic or somethin'. That's the mild version of it." I said, sighing, hopelessly combing back my hair I had forgotten to brush this morning.

"_Damn girl_. Well I'm sure God won't let him react like that. You are his daughter, after all. He can't be _too _bad." He said. _Trevon._ In the mere hours I'd known him, he made me feel better than anyone had ever made me feel before.

"Thanks, but you're jus' sayin' that to make me feel better."

"No, Danica, I'm not. All dads can't be as bad as they're thought to be. Really."

"You think so?"

"Well…yeah." He said. "Have you been thinkin' about…you know, the clinic stuff?" I nodded.

"I was up all night Saturday and Sunday. I'm not gonna get an abortion. I couldn't do that."

"So are you gonna raise the baby?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, it's mine. I should, shouldn't I?" Trevon shrugged.

"It's up to you. But jus' look at Nadeyah. She's raisin' Tyjon, by herself. Sure, she's got her dad but he pays this woman Clara to baby-sit for him. So it's mostly her. And she's doin' a good job."

"Yeah, she is. I haven't met Tyjon, but knowin' Nadeyah, she would be."

"Tyjon's great. You'll love him. Hell, I do and I can hardly stand Yanik." He chuckled. "Hey, I actually, uh, volunteered to baby-sit for Tyjon on Wednesday night. Would you wanna….?" His voice trailed off, but I knew what he was asking. I smiled softly, and looked at him, stopping just as we were about to cross the street to school.

"Yeah. I'd love to."

"Great. Listen…My parents are takin' Yanik with them to their friend's house. Their kid's friends with him. Derek, I think. So I told Nadeyah I'd baby-sit Tyjon at my crib. Her an' her pops are goin' to visit Nadeyah's grandmamma in Yonkers. So, around six on Wednesday, sound okay?" he told me. I smiled softly again.

"It's a date."

As we crossed the road, the very meaning of the words I'd just said sunk in to me.

_It's a date. _

_I was going on a date with Trevon…_


	11. Chapter 11: Shawn

**Chapter 11**

* * *

**SHAWN**

* * *

I sat on the stump until night fell, making the trailers look like a bunch of huge snakes. I used to love watching the sun go down; not really the way the sky configured itself, but how my home changed. When the sun was up, it was just a bunch of scrap metal, but when the sun went down, the entire park seemed to become a snake-pit. When I was little, I remember chasing other trailer kids around, hiding behind the snakes.

The one game Cory never knew about because he wasn't a trailer kid. _The one single game._ I watched to see if any kids remembered the game and were hopping around from snake-to-snake.

_Nothing._

No one remembered it.

No one passed it down.

I heard a rustle among the dead grass and the small shadow of a hulked body moving among the trailers. We used to move like that but somehow I knew it wasn't the game I used to play. I sat as still as I could, just listening.

"C'mon…Look I _don't care_. Tie it_ later_. C'mon…" they rounded the corner of the trailer closest to me.

Nothing to worry about. Kids.

But there was something familiar about the voice. I whirled around. My movements must have freaked them out, because lying down on the grass, clearly having fallen over, was Malcolm.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him. I could have sworn I heard him squeak. "Does your mother know you're here?" He nodded, scrambling to his feet.

"Oh really?" I asked.

"Mr. Hunter, c'mon…"

"Where's the other kid that was with you?" I asked him, getting off the stump.

"What other kid?" Malcolm asked. His voice was shaking.

"There were voices. And you're not crazy. At least not according to doctors. Where's the other person?"

"Oh! You mean Ramerra?" Comprehension dawned on his normally clueless face.

"Uh, I think so."

"Oh. She gets freaked easily so she ran to the trailer."

"What trailer? You're not sayin' you live here?"

"Now I do. My dad does."

"Who's Ramerra?"

"My cousin. My dad's sista's livin' with him till he gets back on his feet. And Ramerra's her daughter."

"Does…Does Danica know you're here?" I asked. Malcolm nodded.

"Yeah, I told my friend at the shelter, Nadeyah Jones to tell her. Nadeyah called me Sunday night an' told me she knew." I nodded.

"C'mon. My dad'll be pissed but I can tell him I was talkin' to you."

Malcolm took me to his trailer and wrenched the door open. A very attractive Nubian woman stood at the door.

"Malcolm! Get in here!" He climbed the stairs. I introduced myself and the woman shook my hand.

"I'm Leona Jemero, I'm Malcolm's aunt. _HAKEEM!_ Malcolm's back!" A sleepy-looking man stumbled from the tiny hallway.

"Who're you?" he asked me. "You the reason, my son's late?" I nodded.

"Sorry. It's…well I'm friends with Chanise."

"So, you Danica's father, aint ya?" he asked. I nodded again. He whistled and clapped a hand to my shoulder.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm just sorry. Shawn…right?" I nodded again.

"Why are you sorry?"

"What?" his eyes widened as he poured coffee, pausing to drink it black. "Oh _sweet_ Jesus, you don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" he sighed and looked straight at me.

"Danica's…pregnant. And my son's the father."

I just stopped completely. I felt as if I couldn't move. I didn't even feel my eyes watering. I didn't have the strength to grab Malcolm and beat the living shit out of him, as much as I wanted to.

"Are…Are you sure?" I asked. Hakeem nodded.

"Yes. Shawn…I'm sorry…Look, when you get back to Brooklyn, please tell Danica that Malcolm's living with me now." I shook my head.

"No need to be sorry, Mr. Jemero, I will. It was nice meeting you. Thank you."

I walked out of the trailer, slamming the door behind me, wanting to scream like I was fifteen again and didn't have a soul to turn to. Now, I would have traded that moment for this in a heartbeat.


	12. Chapter 12: Danica

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

**DANICA**

* * *

On Wednesday, I showed up at Trevon's place early. I was shocked I could walk straight. I tried mopping at my eyes, but that didn't work. I couldn't stop crying. I knocked on his door and he opened it.

"Danica?" he opened it wider. "What's going on?"

"_I-I_-Trevon-" I fell in to his arms. He caught me and took me inside.

"What's going on, Danica?" he asked, curling his arms around my shoulders. I shook.

"Malcolm…he's living in _Philly_…He's _not coming back_." I whispered. Trevon didn't say anything. I didn't want him to. He just held me close, running his hands through my hair, calming me down without speaking.

"Where's Tyjon?" I asked softly.

"He's sleeping." Trevon told me. "Are you okay?" I shook my head.

"Danica…I wish I could help you."

"It's fine…Really, Trevon…I'll…I'll be alright."

"You sure?" I nodded.

"Yeah…I…it's not like-"

Trevon nodded, telling me, as if telepathically, he didn't need to hear anymore to understand what I was trying to say. We sat in silence, until Tyjon's high-pitched-baby-only wail broke through the walls.

"He's awake." Trevon said softly. He eased himself up from the couch, but I got up quicker, pulling my hair back with a ponytail-elastic I always seemed to have on my wrist.

"I'll get him. Where is he?"

"He's in my bedroom, in Yanik's crib. But you dunno myhouse, so I'll get him." He got up from the sofa and walked through the kitchen. I stayed in the living room, long enough to hear the sound of a door creaking open. Trevon's easy, flowing voice was like an ocean that I could hear through the walls; like kids can hear the ocean through seashells.

"Hey, little man…You awake, huh? You want a bubba?" I just sat there, listening to Tyjon's coos and Trevon's easy words and how sweet he sounded. It was better than any lullaby I had ever heard, and I couldn't even see Trevon…then it hit me.

_Trevon was exactly like Malcolm._

Tears threatened to spill down my cheeks again, but I kept biting my lip, until Trevon came back into the room.

He saw me curled up. I saw him baby-less.

"Where's Tyjon?" I asked. I felt like a little kid who was lost in an amusement park.

"He's back to sleep. Guess I got the magic touch." He told me. "You okay?" I shook my head.

Trevon came closer to me. He didn't say anything. His hand brushed my cheek and he sat down next to me.

"Malcolm'll be okay." He whispered. "You'll be fine…Don't cry anymore." He brought his hand to my face again, and moved his fingers right underneath my eye the exact way Malcolm did.

There was just one difference.

Malcolm didn't kiss me after he wiped my eyes. He went for the bra underneath my shirt.

Trevon kissed me.

And his hands stayed around my waist and didn't go passed my sweatshirt.


End file.
